


Spin the thread (of our fates, and the love to come)

by ardouring



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mythology, Calfboy Renjun, Chinese Mythology & Folklore, Historical, Inspired by The Cowherd and the Weaver Girl (Chinese Mythology), M/M, Red String of Fate, square: soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:54:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27774910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ardouring/pseuds/ardouring
Summary: 緣分yuán fènfate or chance that brings people togetherpredestined affinity or relationshipThe fates are not kind. Orphaned from a young age, Yukhei lives with his cow, making ends meet. When he stumbles into the meeting of the heavenly deities and the old man of the moon, he is thrust with his soulmate and a chance at love, Lee Jeno, a curious person with the kindest smile he's ever met.(inspired by the chinese tale of The cowherd and the Weaver Girl)
Relationships: Lee Jeno/Wong Yuk Hei | Lucas
Comments: 10
Kudos: 43
Collections: Challenge #3 — soulmates, THE COLLECTION





	Spin the thread (of our fates, and the love to come)

**Author's Note:**

> first fic for little wonder! thank you to the betas for always being so kind with me! thank you for running this fic fest, mods! I really enjoyed writing this!  
> I'm always a sucker for mythology and historical aus and lujen (rairpair hell), and tried to give a spin to the original tale (surprisingly, a lot shorter)

Yukhei’s life is simple. It’s just him and his old cow, and the fields that surround them everyday. They get up at the crack of dawn, and start plowing the fields for the landowners.

The villagers call him the cowherd, for the cow he brings along never leaves his side. They’ve stuck together through thick and thin, from when his mother passed away up to now when he’s well known within the village. 

Winter, as always, is kicking his ass. The days get shorter but the nights longer, throwing off his entire body cycle. All the crops have withered by this time, and the land is covered in a blanket of snow.

The cold is penetrating into his skin again, and he shivers, sticking as close as possible to the cow in the cramped cowshed. Yukhei’s eyelids feel like lead, and soon enough, he feels his head drooping to the side, resting on the cow’s body. Sleep is a welcome relief from the cold.

(“Yukhei... Yukhei!” Someone is calling his name, and although he's never heard this voice, there’s a sense of familiarity from it. 

He opens his eyes, coming face to face with the old cow.

The cow opens his mouth again, and that voice comes out from his mouth.

Yukhei nearly passes out. How? How is it possible that a cow is speaking?

The cow seems to hear his thoughts, and continues to baffle his mind.

“I’m only strong enough to speak through dreams. I am Renjun, and I was once a deity of imperial heaven, but have since then fallen to Earth as an animal. I want to thank you for all your years of sticking with me, and with my gratitude I wish to give you a chance of love.”

Yukhei stares blankly at him. How is he supposed to believe that? But this dream seems too real, and Renjun has been with him all these years. 

“This new year, Heaven’s silk weavers will be passing strings of fate to the God of the moon, and they will be conducting business in the market square. One of them—if you listen to me and do as I say!—will be your future husband.”

Yukhei blanches. He doesn’t believe that a silk weaver from Heaven will ever catch interest in him. Weavers are Heaven’s most coveted deities. They spin the threads of fate, and along with it mankind’s lives. They come from legends and epics, not your local market.

Besides, he’s barely making enough to survive. Even if he marries a silk weaver, how will they be able to live comfortably? Does Heaven even have a currency? What if this so-called deity gets disgusted at how he lives?

Yukhei startles awake, shooting up from his spot. He turns back and meets the cow’s (Renjun, his brain supplied) gaze on him. So his dream yesterday was real, and Renjun’s gaze digs even deeper at him. His mind is still wrapping around it. Companionship. It would be nice, wouldn’t it, that he might find someone he can and will trust. But Yukhei is scared of tempting fate, and that someone would be taken away from him again.

(He misses his mother terribly.)

Renjun’s gaze softens. “Take your time. Follow your heart if you want.”, he seems to portray as he nuzzles his nose into Yukhei’s neck.

***  
The people of this country depend on agriculture, and the holidays are adjusted to the harvest seasons. The dawn of the new year is the biggest and most important one. It’s time for a break from the tiring summer months and a launch into the harsh winters after a bountiful harvest. It’s the time for celebration and family, and all around China the families are getting together for reunion dinner. 

The new year has finally arrived, and the spirit of celebration has spread all around. Roads are bustling with people, some on horseback and others walking with children. People are crowding around salesmen and their goods, or waiting patiently for their food as the frazzled hawker tries to keep up with his orders. The children hide behind their mothers’ sleeves as performers make their way across the festive streets, pulling diablos by stringing them side to side, performing tricks as the clashing sounds of cymbals resound all around the streets. Lanterns are slung upon the road posts and pagoda roofs, casting warm glows on their surroundings.

For Yukhei and many people his age, it’s the time to bargain at the market square. 

Yukhei feels a tug on his robe as he stands in front of a vendor, comparing the sizes and texture of the fabric, wondering if he could afford another hanfu.

Renjun has clamped one end of his sleeve in his mouth, desperately pulling on it.

“Renjun, later alright? Look at how cheap this fabric is!”

Yukhei swears he can feel Renjun glaring at him. Death by stampeding from an old cow. What a pleasant way to go.

Renjun’s desperation leads him to literally drag Yukhei from his spot, leading to a comical sight. Renjun tugs a little too tightly this time, and bumps into a person holding a crate of oranges. 

So much for a peaceful shopping experience. Renjun pulls at him this time to get them away from the crime scene, as curious onlookers start to gather around the fallen man as he rubs his back and tries to get up.

In hindsight, Yukhei should have seen this coming. There’s nothing like the cunning bastard that is Renjun, because all that thrashing around has moved the pair from the crowded booths to a more secluded area behind them. It’s a lot quieter here, and the commotion from the crowds has slowly trickled into a soft murmur.

Renjun suddenly lets go of the sleeve that was in a deadhold, leading Yukhei to stumble and fall backwards into the ground with an embarrassing crash, leading to more curses and glares from him, and an impassive expression from Renjun. 

He makes the mistake of looking up.

There is a reason the deities are depicted as such in the legends. This scene reminds him of an epic tale, of some form of history to be framed and passed down through time.

It happens at the exit of the alleyway. The once ordinary pond has suddenly been cast with a shimmer, illuminating the water lilies and dragonflies at the water’s surface. The murky water has cleared up, revealing the once inhabitants of carps and turtles, allowing one to see the end of the pond.

A lone figure sits in the shade of the worn down shelter, books and manuscripts surrounding them. A nondescript bag sits at their feet, the red string in it threatening to spill over. A voice inside his head (Renjun, he thinks,) tells him that this is the old man of the moon, the god in charge of marriage and matchmaking, and the string next to him, the red string of fate, responsible for all soulmates.

The procession is taking place.

Twelve deities are lined up before the figure. The deities are cloaked in robes made of silk, dyed bright colours of pinks and blues. Scarfs draped around them are floating off their shoulders.

The one in front, he supposes, the leader, is holding a roll of red string. His Hanfu is white as snow, floating around his body. His waiyi is a pale blue, a white lotus embroidered on the end of one sleeve.

The deity looks up and meets his eyes, and Yukhei can swear he’s known him all his life.

(“Mother! Mother! Can you tell the tale of the red string again please?” A five year old Yukhei tugs at his mother’s sleeve.

The candle is barely lighting up the room. The night has long fallen, and the snow is howling outside the door, rattling the hinges of bamboo. Despite this, the small child seems unbothered, eyes seeming to shine as he clings to his mother. 

The lady smiles and pets Yukhei’s head.

“Alright, dear.”

And she repeats the legend again. 

The tale of the red string. Fibre from the trees of the Empress’ orchard, woven by the hands of the weavers. It connects destined lovers, regardless of any place, time or circumstances. The string can be lost, can be tangled, but it will never fray.

The lady stops for a while. Takes a deep breath, and tells her son of the string connecting her and his father. Yukhei listens on, entranced, even if he’s heard this tale multiple times.

The snow has stopped, leaving the pale moon shining in the sky as if the storm earlier was nothing but a mirage.

The old man of the moon will still let her go after this one. It’s only fair for a soulmate to find his pair.)

Everything seems to happen too fast at once. 

The red string the deity is holding seems to come to life, lifting itself from the firm grip, raising one end like a snake. It flies up, rippling through the air and prancing around like a fish in water. The deity looks exasperated, making no move to stop the animated string.

Then, as quickly as it starts, the string comes for Yukhei.

Now, if you could imagine, Yukhei is more than a bumbling mess right now. The string takes delight in that confusion, teasing him by slithering up and down his arm like a snake. And suddenly, it makes its way to his hands, tying itself in a knot around his pinky. 

A promise.

He looks up, and the other end of the string is around the earlier weaver’s pinky.

The weaver looks just as confused as him, but he stares at Yukhei with a sense of confidence, eyes full of resolve, and somewhere in there, kindness. 

Too bad that when that weaver comes to talk to him, Yukhei has long scrambled away from the pond and the alley, mixing himself with the crowd, leaving behind an exasperated string, weaver and cow.

***  
Yukhei thinks he is safe from the string, pausing midway in the streets, panting as he catches his breath. His bubble of peace is quickly shattered as the weaver comes after him, holding Renjun by the reins and his waiyi in another hand.

“..Stop... running away! Please!” The weaver intercepts his way, thrusting Renjun’s reins into his hands, throwing his hands out, trying to stop him from escaping.

“I’m Lee Jeno, 5th son of the Lee family! I know you find this… matter hard to believe now, but please give me a chance! Give me a month! A month to court you, and I will back off!” Jeno looks at him with the same eyes, ones that promise happiness and so much more.

The fates are not kind. Lee Jeno knows this personally.

It is ironic that the people who create the strings of love are not allowed to experience their own. There are rumors of deities who gave up everything for a chance to love, to find their own soulmates, to only be dragged back by the Empress, the lover long dead and their dreams burnt.

He doesn’t take them seriously. The weavers are a gossipy bunch. There’s only so much you can do around here, when your only view is your loom and thousands of the same string, where you report to work and produce the same string everyday.

(But rumors exist for a reason, and Jeno bows his head in sadness when his cubicle mate disappears.) 

***  
Life with Jeno is surprisingly easy. After all, this dude literally came from palaces of silk. But when Yukhei asks Jeno about how life is up there, he just sighs, leaning into his personal space and laying against his shoulder.

“Boring. Empress only wants us to spin silk all day long. Sure, the celebrations are grand, but no one’s actually allowed to go. It’s only for the gods anyways.” Jeno leans up from his position and promptly flops onto Yukhei’s lap, causing the latter to startle.

Jeno reaches for his hands and laces their fingers together.

“But I think the mortal realm is wonderful. The environment here is so different from up there and the people are all so lovely.” He stares into Yukhei’s eyes.

“Especially this really stubborn one who ran away from me, one who actually has the personality of a puppy despite-” 

Yukhei swats at him gently, “I’m not that intimidating! I’m just scared!”

Jeno looks at him with that damned eye smile, and Yukhei feels himself melting away.

Jeno is now working at the fabric shop in the market square. He’s known for his detailed embroidery and his knack for fixing torn sleeves. Most importantly, the village knows him for his eye smile, and how he always manages to find Yukhei, no matter how deep in the mountains he goes. 

Yukhei finds him first one day.

The shop is crowded as always. Rolls of fabric in any texture or colour line the inside of the walls, ladders propped up against them. Yards of cloth are being passed around to buyers, some bargaining for a cheaper price, and others measuring it against their children.

Jeno is sitting by the loom, fingers weaving in and out of the threads. His face is set in concentration, foot stepping on the peddle. He is hunched over the machine, and when the spool has finally finished, he slumps over. His eyes wander until he spots a pair of children chasing each other around the shop, weaving in and out of the legs of workers, jumping over the rolls of fabrics, their parents giving chase as his coworkers curse at them.

Jeno breaks out into a smile. He wonders what life would be like if he could spend it in the mortal realm. What if he wasn’t a weaver born in the heavens? Would his childhood be more free? Would he be able to explore love for himself?

Yukhei comes over. He makes it a point to bring Jeno to explore the mortal realm more.

Yukhei takes him to see markets filled with people, takes him to try street food, takes him to shrines and temples and places hidden from sight. They stroll around parks, where Jeno points out every species of creature he can find from the encyclopedia Yukhei had bought for him. Jeno waits for him during work, talking (or bickering) with Renjun as the sun sets and baths the earth in a beautiful golden.

They sat on their first horse drawn carriage the other day. Yukhei was green in the face from Jeno screaming at the poor coachman to go faster. 

(He actually just wanted an excuse to cling onto Jeno afterwards, and when Jeno holds him by the waist and calls him adorable, Yukhei nearly slams into a tree.)

***  
When the news comes out that Heaven needs a team of weavers to give the string, Jeno signs up for it without a second thought. He's not sure why either, after he’s finally sealed his name on the form, fingers stained from the red ink.

He looks down at his hands, rough from all the years of weaving, and swears he sees a red string tied by his pinky.

***  
They should have been more careful. Of course this would happen.

When Yukhei goes to the market square that week, Jeno isn’t at the fabric shop.

The people there don’t know either, looking frantic as they realise their best weaver has disappeared all of a sudden.

Renjun moos loudly from the entrance, causing Yukhei to break out from his panic and run out from the shop.

“The empress found him. You have to go now. Take Jeno’s robe, it’ll take you to him. Hurry!” Even Renjun seems panicked, throwing the garment at him and pushing him to the riverbanks.

There, the Empress has dragged Jeno, and the pair are flying up, back to the heavens.

The Empress looks furious, digging her nails into Jeno’s arms as she forcefully grabs onto him and pulls them up. Jeno is terrified, inching away from her as much as possible. He spots Yukhei, and instinctively reaches out, calling his name.

The Empress is seething. “A country bumpkin? What are you thinking?” She grabs Jeno even tighter now, fingernails leaving crescents in his arm. His face dawns with a horrifying realisation when he realises that rumors are terribly true as she lifts her hand up.

(He regrets not kissing Yukhei sooner.)

She summons a flock of magpies, surrounding the pair, blocking Yukhei from Jeno.

There is the tinge of disappointment and despair in the air. The empress can go against fate, after all. Yukhei feels the familiar surge of panic in him, and he stands rooted. He doesn’t want to lose someone else again. But the fates are not kind, because they’ve done it once by ripping his mother away, and he realises that they will do it again to the man he loves dearly.

And when all hope seems lost, the magpies stop in their tracks, and instead of closing in on Yukhei, they change course, linking a bridge instead to the pair of lovers.

The fates have shown pity on them this once. This will be enough for them. The empress is disgruntled, letting Jeno go as he immediately embraces a crying Yukhei.

Not even the Empress would tempt fate. It is quickly announced by her that the couple can only meet on this day, the pair delighted to hear the news.

The man of the moon records the tale of the fates blessing the couple. It is now passed down, lines blurred, but one thing remains the same: This is a story of love and soulmates.

It is said that every 7th day of the 7th month in the lunar calendar, it rains. Some say it’s the tears of joy and gratitude of the couple meeting once again. But if you look closely, maybe you’ll see the magpie bridge and the couple forming the milky way.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading this! nohei are so cuddly and fun to write lol
> 
> twitter  
> curious cat


End file.
